


if you can't make your own husband, then store bought is fine

by TheSpaceCoyote



Series: Huxloween 2019 [7]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Crack Treated Seriously, Feeding Kink, Food Kink, M/M, Magic, Witch Kylo Ren, implied weight gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 21:24:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21186215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpaceCoyote/pseuds/TheSpaceCoyote
Summary: Hux should've learned from common fairy tales not to explore candy houses found deep in the woods, no matter how innocent they look on the outside.Fortunately, the witch living inside has a far different plan for him than what Hux expects.





	if you can't make your own husband, then store bought is fine

**Author's Note:**

> This is the most ridiculous thing I've ever written. I just randomly thought it'd be funny if Kylo was a witch living in a candy house and...this is what happened. 
> 
> Don't take it too seriously, it's just something silly for my friends who enjoy this sort of content!
> 
> Consider this a belated prompt for Huxloween Day 12: "Witches."

It’s such a ridiculous situation that Hux finds himself trapped in that he feels like he would be embarrassed to describe it to anyone. His coworkers back at his job, an arresting officer, the eventual therapist he’ll need to convince himself he’s not crazy—the idea of repeating the exact details of how he’s fallen victim to such an insane trap sends a violent shudder of revulsion and shame up his spine. 

Because really, how can one explain being trapped in a house made of candy and cake smack-dab in the middle of a deep forest, without sounding like they’ve completely gone off their rocker? It sounds like a concept ripped wholesale from a child’s fairy tale—utterly farcical and, most importantly, impossible. 

And yet, here he is—sitting in a chair made of gingerbread, by the smell of it, bound with red licorice whips, with a speckled jawbreaker gag jammed between his teeth. Hux growls, rocking himself in place. Damn it. How the hell can _ candy _ be so tough to break? He should be able to snap these bonds like they were nothing, crack the legs off the flimsy chair, and make his escape. But all his struggles do nothing but make his captor laugh when he reenters the room.

“You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?”

Hux narrows his eyes at the man, still giving the occasional defiant wiggle. Even if the situation is hopeless, he’s not about to lie back and let this _ freak _ do whatever he wants with him.

And freak, as far as Hux’s concerned, is an apt description of the man now stalking towards him, heeled boots clacking against sleek, multicolored flooring that looks composed of a mosaic of poured sugar rather than built from standard tiles. He contrasts sharply with the rest of the house with its vibrant candy construction, dressed all in black from head to toe—black shirt, black trousers, voluminous black cloak that billows out behind him. He even sports daubs of black makeup around his eyes and lips, which with his pale, dappled skin gives him the appearance of an angular yet oddly handsome skull. He’s broad and tall but sibilant and dark as a shadow, the only pop of brightness a cracked, inverted cross-shaped crystal hanging from a leather thong around his neck. It bounces between his shapely pectorals with each step, winking in the afternoon sun when he comes to a halt in front of Hux. 

“...I was hoping it might,” Hux says when the man pulls the jawbreaker out of his mouth and lets it fall to the floor. It strikes the candy tiles with a wet _ smack_, rolling harmlessly under the chair. Leather fingertips trail over Hux’s chin, making him squirm. He grows even more nervous when the man circles behind him, dodging out of his field of vision. He’d like to keep track of this freak as closely as he can, but Hux only spies the hem of his cloak out of the corner of his eye. 

“You really want to leave so soon? That’s a real shame. ”

The glide of fingers trailing down his bound arms makes Hux jerk in the chair. He licks his dry lips, still tasting the sickly sweet coating of the jawbreaker. “Of course. The last thing I want is to be trapped by a mad, gothic wannabe in his _ gingerbread house_, of all things. Really, you’re a fool if you think this will last long. What if you attract ants? What if it _ rains__?_ The entire thing is held together with royal icing and a prayer!”

“You ask a lot of questions.” Hux twitches as he feels the bonds around his wrist tighten, the stickiness of the licorice rubbing up against his skin. “Wouldn’t you rather know what I have planned for you?”

Hux rolls his eyes, recalling the ridiculous fairy tales he’d never believed, even as a youth. “If I had to take a guess...you’re going to fatten me up, shove me in your oven, and eat me, correct?”

He’d meant it as a bit of a joke, and while the man does laugh, he doesn’t immediately refute any of Hux’s assumptions, which makes him even more nervous that he’ll wind up served up on a platter with all the trimmings for the freak and his freak friends to dine upon. The hands trail back up his arms to his shoulders, and start massaging the muscles Hux holds tense and proud there. 

“Eat you? What a waste that would be, to do away with such a handsome man so quickly. No, I want to savor you for as long as possible.” The man’s voice dips into something Hux pegs as more of a sultry purr, though to him it still holds a sinister edge. “But…your first idea? Now _ that _ could be fun. You could stand to have a bit more meat on your bones. After all, I want a good, healthy husband.”

“_Husband?_ Now listen here, you god-damn freak—”

Hux cuts off in a gasp as the man’s hands slide over his shoulders, trailing down his collarbone and over his chest and stomach. His cheeks grow beet red, and he’s about to reprimand the man for his brazen groping when he’s distracted by the realization that the fine leather gloves cloaked around those large palms and surprisingly deft fingers have shucked clean off to act of their own accord. Hux jolts in his seat, gasping as the disembodied gloves glide over his body, appraising it like a farmer does a prized pig, feeling his ribs and belly through his dress shirt. 

“How...how are you doing that? Some kind of magic trick?” Hux asks, searching for some kind of rational explanation, wires or motors or something. The man laughs at him again, leaving the gloves to pinch and prod at his body as he crosses back into Hux’s field of vision, a smug look on his pale face. 

“Magic, yes. But it’s no trick.” Before Hux’s eyes the man snaps his fingers, and with a _ crack _ the crystal around his neck starts to glow, and a plate of pastries—heretofore left upon the white chocolate windowsill to cool—levitates up in the air and begins to float on over. 

Hux blanches. “That….that’s impossible.”

“Impossible as a house crafted from candy?” The man’s smirk only grows. Hux shakes his head and blinks rapidly as if trying to clear his vision, caught between annoyance and awe at the whole situation. It feels surreal, yet he’s pretty sure he’s not dreaming. 

Hux can't stop himself from inhaling deeply when the plate of pastries gets close enough. The aroma is heavenly—filling the entire house with the mingling notes of sugar and cinnamon and butter along with many other delicious things he can’t quite pinpoint. Hux’s stomach growls, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since long before his ill-fated walk through the woods. 

“You must be hungry. Won’t you have a little bite?” The man twists his fingers, and one of the pastries—a thick, decadent looking scone studded with currants and white chocolate chips and drizzled in icing—levitates off the plate and towards Hux’s mouth. At first, he jerks his head to the side, determined to stick with his defiant attitude. Besides, who knows whether or not the food is even safe to eat—he wouldn’t put it past a man insane enough to live in a candy house and practice magic to torture his captives with poisoned pastries. 

“Come now. Open up.” The man crooks his finger, butting the edge of the scone against Hux’s mouth. He doesn’t try to force it inside, just keeps it brushing against Hux’s lips, as if to entice him with the smell of flaky dough and sweet icing alone. Well, Hux wasn’t about to fall for that. He’d like to think his sense of self-preservation was bigger than his stomach. 

But the man doesn’t let up, not even when Hux keeps his lips clamped tight in abject refusal. 

“Won’t you please?” With a sigh, the man tilts his head and puts on the sorriest pair of puppy dog eyes Hux has ever seen on a grown adult. “It’s been years since anyone’s tried my baking. I’d really love to hear an outsider’s opinion on it.”

“Is this what you get up to out in these woods? Tying up helpless strangers, keeping them in your confectionary madhouse, forcing them to eat your—_mmph!_” Like a fool Hux opens his mouth to berate the maniac, in his annoyance forgetting the reason for keeping it shut in the first place. Taking advantage, the pastry quickly shoves past his lips, leaving Hux with no option but to bite into it before it gags him. He chews, at first with a sour expression, before the taste of the scone melts it away to pure bliss. Hux shuts his eyes with a muffled moan, swallowing the mouthful of pastry down and licking the crumbs from his lips. A sated calm washes over him, like none he’s ever felt before. 

The man doesn’t even have to push the rest of the scone into Hux’s mouth—he eagerly leans forward in his chair to take another bite, scarfing it down so quickly that he’s a little sullen when it’s all gone. Hux’s eyes slip open as he laps the last bit of icing from his lips. Heavens above. Suddenly, he feels absolutely _ starving_. 

“What do you think?” the man purrs as the gloves dust away crumbs of scone that had fallen onto Hux’s shirt. “Too much sugar? Not enough butter? I feel like I can never get it _ quite _ right.” 

For a moment, Hux can’t devise a proper response. He just eyes the plate of pastries still floating in the air beside the man, rotating slowly, light from the windows glinting off the golden accents at the rim. Desperately, he craves another, consumed with the sudden urge to fill his stomach with as many treats as it can carry. 

“It’s _ decent_,” Hux lies, not caring if the man believes him, “but I think I may have to try another to really make sure. After all, you want a comprehensive opinion, don’t you?”

The man sees through him, obviously, but with a glimmer in his mysterious eyes he walks forward, the plate of pastries floating alongside him. This time, he plucks one from the pile with his fingers, presenting it to Hux’s mouth. It’s different from the first pastry—an overstuffed turnover, filled with what looked like spiced apple and topped with cinnamon-spiced crumb. 

“Of course. _ Please_, eat your fill,” the man says, pushing the pastry to Hux’s lips. “And there’s even more treats baking in the kitchen, if you’re still hungry.”

Hux eyes the plate as he wolfs down the turnover even more quickly than he did the scone. It’s filled to the brim with sweets. He reasons there’s probably enough there to feed everyone breakfast back at the office, with some even left over. A lot more than one man should sensibly consume in a single sitting. But Hux is feeling a little indulgent, for once, and considering the day’s ordeal he thinks he deserves to cut loose. He doesn’t usually eat much in his day-to-day life, but then again he doesn’t usually nibble on baked goods that taste this incredible. 

To the man’s delight and Hux’s complete surprise, he manages to polish off the entire plate before long, his belly bloated and groaning against the buttons on his shirt. Hux lets out a moan, brow furrowed as he looks down, still grappling with how he was able to eat so much in one sitting. It aches a bit, but he’s not left to suffer for long. Once he finishes, the disembodied gloves move down his front to pay special attention to his overstuffed middle, leather palms tenderly rubbing it as the man floats the plate back towards the kitchen, presumably to be washed by some magical scrub-brush. 

“You enjoyed that even more than I thought you would.” The man’s voice dips even deeper, edging into an appreciative groan. “You’re really perfect.” He nods to himself, smirk pulling his lips back to show the points of teeth. “I’m definitely going to keep you.”

Hux should’ve probably questioned what exactly the man meant by “keep you,” but just when he thinks to ask there’s another pastry—a cream puff, practically bursting with decadent strawberry filling and seemingly manifested out of thin air—shoving into his mouth, and then he can’t find it in himself to care about anything else other than the transcendent taste of the treat as it caresses his tongue, much like a tender lover might. The man has already produced a second cream puff in his palm, a basket filled with many more looped around his strong forearm. 

Hux closes his eyes, chewing with absolute relish, feeling the growing fullness in his belly rise when he swallows the treat all the way down and opens his mouth for another. Well. If the man intends to feed him more and more of his delicious baking then—consider Hux “kept.”

**Author's Note:**

> I was considering writing a small little coda to this, but I'm not sure if people want it. If you do, let me know!
> 
> Hit me up on [Tumblr](http://thethespacecoyote.tumblr.com) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/heir_of_breath7/).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Of Cinnamon Rolls and Missing Persons](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21217340) by [tallrezi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tallrezi/pseuds/tallrezi)
  * [Gingerbread](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21362890) by [NylonRabbit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NylonRabbit/pseuds/NylonRabbit)


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